ReBirth
by Phantasmik
Summary: He isn’t sure if insanity tastes good or not. It tastes of marmalade and death and smells like the rich spices of the deserts. Agito-centric, dark fic, AgitoIkki


**Save me from myself**

It feels as if he is crawling through glass. Moving ever so slowly, shredding skin and cloth alike as he goes. The trails of blood smell like copper and candy apples, gleaming on the shards of glass- red life.

He isn't sure if insanity tastes good or not. It tastes of marmalade and death and smells like the rich spices of the deserts. His friends try to remain quiet-

_maybe if we don't say anything he'll get better_

-but he knows eventually, it will all end. There will be no more of this friend business, they will all realize just how crazy he- no, **they** really are.

And then they will leave, they will wilt and die and their delicate blossoms will bruise and ooze life. The Crow cares about him. It's almost funny, really. It makes him laugh as Crow fucks him against the wall, and he begs for the Crow to make him bleed.

_make me scream, make me bleed, make me cry, make me di-_

The walls are painted with hearts, the ceilings coated in bile. He can feel the hearts beat in time with the _others_ and the steady drip drop of bile colliding with the bone of the floor is the only auditory stimulus he finds appealing.

There are steel bars all around him, they follow him every day-

to school, to the tracks, to the hearts-

they revolve around him constantly, and the steel tastes like dead flesh and burns like scorched silver and they _restrict,_**they kill**, and they hurt.

The bars are shackles, retribution for everything and for nothing.

The Crow must be catching on by now, he can see it all through beady little eyes- finds the mutilated corpses of rats, birds, cats, and dogs lying in wait among the shadows of his room.

It's ironic, he thinks, as the hearts give little pitter patters, writhing against each other in a bloody dance- ironic that the hearts are there. His own turned to dust long ago.

A heart in the corner of the room, near the bile covered ceiling gives a shudder and stops.

The Jet is worried now too. He can see him and the Crow give him worried glances when they think he isn't looking. Can smell the strange mixture of pity (lavender) and fear (cloves) on the air.

_You haven't changed in awhile. Where did he go?_

He laughs and _the other_ gives a jolt, trying to free itself from the strange restrictions of its prison.

The Crow frowns at him as his left eye twitches, and he knows that for a moment there is not madness gleaming from behind it but pure terror. He snickers and licks a wet, wet candyfloss trail down Crow's chest.

Crow forgets his worry after that.

_**Bruised**_

The hearts are stopping one by one, and he wonders what will happen when all of them sleep and rot away.

The Crow can't be distracted forever. He still wonders, worries, fears what has happened to _the other_, and he can only be put off for so long. He will soon ask, and then he will die.

It has been a long time since _the other_ has struggled against him, but these days he is trying to get through, so very, very hard. It almost takes him by surprise.

Little things slip through his carefully erected cage, a hand raising itself to grab onto the Crow without himself moving it, a pleading look not his own in maddened eyes, soft whimpers and terrified mumbling.

Soon things will end, and then it will be over.

The Crow is looking for small clues as to what has happened, he is wary of the other, beady little crow eyes shrewd and calculating. There is a stench inside. It smells like rotting meat and sugared candies. The hearts have mostly stopped, only two remaining. It's almost like a countdown.

When the remaining hearts stop, he feels his shoulders droop and a mad grin crawl its way across his face.

The Crow is standing in the bathroom, skin glistening and wet in the florescent lights. It makes him long for more time. Crow turns, and shrewd brown eyes take in the others naked body, gaze raking up and down his body with longing.

They come together effortlessly, and slide against each other the way they have done thousands of times. Crow fucks him, pushed up against the tiles of the bathroom walls. It's as hard and rough as it has ever been and he screams his ecstasy at the feel of blood between his thighs.

Crow lets out a strangled moan and comes, his body shuddering against the others.

The look of surprise on his face as the blade splits him from ear to ear is exquisite.

_The other_ shudders and dies, bleeding out of me the same way Crow's blood is now deserting him.

**Save me from myself.**


End file.
